GLUTTONY AND TEMPERANCE
Story by LiveIron on SoFurry
'You need'
>Rebecca hugs you.
>You stiffen, but don't resist.
>She's warm. Soft.
>Overwhelmingly all-encompassing.
>"Anon --" she starts, but stops partway through.
>She pulls you closer instead.
>Her size means your head doesn't clear her chest, and her arms swallow you almost completely.
>God.
>How long has it been since you've held someone?
>How long has it been since someone held you?
>How long has it been since you felt so warm, so safe? Trusted someone like this, cared for them like this?
>Guilt burns bright in your stomach.
>But strangely, your hands still seek her plush form.
>Rebecca jumps, then pulls you into her lap.
>The same questions are going through her head, you realize.
>"Anon," she manages, shifting her grip, "I'm so, so sorry."
>You can feel the holes in her sports bra against your face. Soft fur pokes through.
>"You went through all that, and now I -- I brought you back here."
>Her legs tighten around yours; her arms pull you closer.
>There's a shiver to her voice.
>"It's not your fault," you say into her chest.
>She doesn't hear.
>"I appreciate your words," she says, oblivious to your slight struggles, "but I don't think it's the same."
>The fire in your gut burns brighter as you feel her hold tighten.
>You push harder, trying to free yourself.
>It's so nice. It's so tempting to let go.
>More than you'd thought it'd be.
>But you can't.
>It's not what you deserve.
>"But I know that I -- I need to repay you," she sighs. "For everything."
>You feel her lay back, pulling you with.
>She's starting to tip to the side.
>"I'll hold you. Like this. For however long it takes --"
>"No!"
>The tigress stiffens, brought out of her trance.
>You pop from her chest with a gasp. Her hands don't leave you, keeping you firmly in her grip.
>But she’s no longer smothering you in her chest.
>"I -- I'm sorry," she manages, looking down at you.
>There's confusion in her face. But disappointment as well.
>"Why not?" she asks.
>"I -- we can't," you say.
>"Why not?" she repeats, voice slightly deeper.
>"Because I can't."
>You have to keep your face from falling.
>"I should have died, Rebecca. This is my second chance. It's more than I deserve, and I --"
>A howl pierces the air.
>Her claws scrape against your armor as the two of you look up.
>"He's here," Rebecca says, all the warmth from before gone.
>"...That's another reason."
>She doesn't smile. The tigress pushes you off to the side, already standing when you hit the cushion.
>Her blade hums and her tail flicks.
>You grab your discarded PsyScope and curse.
>You should've been fixing it.
>You summon Talia and turn it on anyway, scanning the windows.
>Nothing.
>No pounding of feet, no wheezing or gasping.
>It's like when you first arrived all over again.
>Your heart beats softly.
>Rebecca growls.
>And then it happens.
>Windows shatter with a howl, dark shapes flowing through them.
>You fire and Rebecca roars; each of you take one half of the house.
>The thralls are new. They're unscathed by the fire or by scars from previous battles.
>But they fight just the same as before, feral and uncoordinated.
>The unsorted mess scatters about the room as you dodge swipes and bites.
>Claws scrape wood, shred paper, shatter valuables.
>Though their blows never land, you still feel each one.
>A growl forces its way to your throat. You start double tapping.
>Putting extra shots into the monsters you've already put to the floor.
>Your magazine may be limitless, but you stop yourself.
>It's what he wants, you realize.
>That's why they're scattering her things about and smashing wood and glass.
>That's why there are thralls lurking outside in the yard.
>"Rebecca!" you yell. "Where is he?"
>She snarls, cleaving through a row of monsters before she answers.
>"Towards the truck!"
>You flick the pin on a disruptor.
>"Then let's move!"
>You toss the charge at the back door, popping the closest thralls before it goes off.
>The device itself hardly makes a sound, but the screeching from the creatures in range is near-deafening.
>You shove them out of the way as you go outside.
>The disruption field feels strange like always. You feel cold, empty -- Talia seems to glow less brightly.
>But she still works.
>You cover Rebecca as she barrels your way, picking off the thralls not yet in range.
>She grunts when she hits the barely-visible shimmering field. Her body tenses, and footsteps almost falter.
>But her momentum carries her through.
>You ward off the creatures waiting outside; the tigress clutches her head, slowing to a stop just on the edge of the charge's range.
>"You good?" you yell.
>"Yeah," she grunts. "Just -- a headache."
>"Good," you say. "I think I know where to go..."
>The field behind Talia's home is filled with figures. The dead weave through the dead stalks of corn as smoke rises behind them.
>Whatever's burning sends a glow into the night sky.
>You take a breath; the monsters howl.
>Rebecca rumbles.
>And you both go to work.